


Drafted

by Ready_Freddiee



Category: The Rolling Stones
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:42:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ready_Freddiee/pseuds/Ready_Freddiee
Summary: The Vietnam was is going on, the drafting is starting up, and Mick and Keith unfortunately get dragged into this hellish war.An au (based on a fan art) where Mick and Keith get drafted to Vietnam right before their musical careers with the Stones are about to take place.
Relationships: Keith Richards/Mick Jagger - Relationship, glimmer twins - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Drafted

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, this au was created by @shortsoda1969 on instagram, they allowed me to write out the fanfic to the fan art they made. So definitely go check them out they are an amazing artist and I hope I’ve done this au justice.

A ring at the telephone took the young man’s mind off the letter he held in his hand, pushing away his black locks from his face he shook his head, just letting the ringing infiltrate his mind. “Keith, darling, could you get the phone please?” He heard his mother say from the kitchen, “yes, ma’am”. It would devastate her if he passed away, he was her only child, the only child the Richards had. His steps were slow as he approached the phone, it was December 13, 1969 and Keith was no more than 18 years old going to turn 19 in a couple days, his mother already planning a small reunion for him and his friends at the house. Some background on the Keith, the boy’s family had returned home to England shortly after his birth in America and never returned to that place again after deciding that it was best to just settle where they had been raised as well. By law Keith Richards was an American, no matter how British he sounded or looked to the government he was American. And American was something that no one wanted to be at the moment, especially young men. 

“Hello?” He asked, waiting for a noise from the other end. A particular British accent welcomed him and immediately gave away who was on the line. “Keef, did you get a letter?” “Yeah...I did” “Have you opened it yet?” “No but I have a gut feeling I know what the answer may be” 

The drafting was going on in America, every man of the age of 18 and older who had been chosen by the government had to go through the process of the lottery number. In fact, they had announced the lottery numbers on December 1st but one had to get a letter in the mail confirming their call to the war before enlisting. Somehow Keith and his best mate, Mick, had wound up being chosen for this unlucky draw even though they were an ocean away from the dreaded place. Both boys had similar backstories, they were born accidentally in the US and brought back to England soon after which therefore still made them US citizens and applicable for the draft. They were both of age to qualify for UK citizenship but they had been putting it off for a while and now it was too late. 

“Shut up, don’t jinx the fucking thing. Meet me in the old bunker and we can open them together. I’ll get us the pizza this time if you bring the beer”. There wasn’t much Keith could say after that because as soon as he was about to protest such plan the line was cut and he was left with a ringing. Groaning he put the phone back on the wall and entered the kitchen. “Who was it, darling?” His mother asked as she walked past him and towards the turn table. “Just Mick, he wants to meet up so I won’t be home for lunch. I’ll call if I stay out later”. As he spoke the boy got to work shoving the coke bottles he had filled with beer into a store bag. “Be careful, Keith” “I will, mum”. A kiss goodbye and a few more words later and Keith was off, no money for a cab and not having a bike either he usually made his way everywhere on foot. Keith and his family weren’t all too high in society, they weren’t necessarily rich or broke, but he certainly wasn’t going to fancy colleges like Mick might. 

The old bunker was something he and Mick had found by pure accident when walking home after school. They were playing with rocks, throwing them at one another in a rock war, when Mick fell down a ditch. Having nothing better to do they followed the path in it, as if their school uniforms hadn’t suffered enough after their rock war, their shoes were basically drowned in mud, their white shirts turned grey with patches of brown here and there but they were happy together regardless of the stern yelling they’d probably get back home. A big, rusty, grey door indicated that they had found something interesting, was someone living here? Had this been a war bunker? Maybe this was something for tornados made by someone who lived nearby. Whatever the reason the boys didn’t care, between both of them they managed to get the door open to reveal the interior. The only light source to give a dim look into the bunker was that from outside, luckily it was pretty sunny, surprising for England, so they were able to see at least a couple feet in. 

It smelled of dead animal and felt hot once entering. Scouting around Mick had found a flashlight that somehow had some life left in it. The bunker was surprisingly big and semi furnished. Along the walls stood wobbly wooden shelves packed with cans of food, beans, tuna, fruit, and cat food. “Guess the bloke had a cat or something” Keith mentioned looking through the many cans, it was weird seeing the cans, it gave him a sense of danger and desperation yet gave him a rush of adrenaline at the thought of some sort of adventure about to beginning. That’s when it actually hit him what this place might’ve been, “it’s a war bunker”. Surely enough as soon as those words came out of his mouth Mick found it, a helmet with a Nazi symbol on it. “Yeah, some German spy I bet” he said, disgust in his voice as he threw the helmet to the ground. It rolled towards Keith and stopped when it hit his foot. 

Tension had filled the room as they continued to investigate the bunker German writings, messages, and papers, were discovered in their exploration. Apart from that though, if the Nazi stuff was taken out the place would be one hell of a hangout area. Like mentioned, it was semi furnished, a desk, some chairs, a radio and even a bed was in there and seeing that the war was over they decided that the bunker would officially be theirs to keep. It took two weeks of work to get the place into a decent little hangout place. They burned up some of the papers and used them as light sources until they managed to find a way to get the electricity going again. Seeing as some of the furniture was old or just didn’t sit well with them they also brought in some furniture of their own. Some of their favorite records were brought in, half of them because of course they needed some for their homes, blankets, a rug, a hammock, and even a fridge found in the back of some meat store. 

By the time they were done that bunker had become a second home to both of them. They’d meet there, have their friends over, occasionally sleep in there as well. It could get a tad chilly seeing as they couldn’t get the heater to work but they worked around that by just having blankets and jackets lying around for anyone who needed one. 

A smile crept to the boy’s lips at the sight of that huge silver door. Not wanting others kids to claim this sanctuary but not wanting the government to know to who it belonged to exactly if they found it they had written “Property of the Glimmer Twins”. Knocking a short beat on the door it opened before him to reveal a long, brown, haired boy with very full lips and the most beautiful blue eyes. “Did you put lipstick or something on?” “Just some gloss, a mate of mine, David, told me I’d look good with some.” “You look like a bird” “You’re just jealous that my lips actually exist” A chuckle escaped Keith as he entered and listened to the other. Stepping into their home, their bunker, always gave him a sort of feeling of relief. It was as if in here nothing could go wrong, other than perhaps a spilled drink which happened once because one of their mates, Brian, had stumbled when he tried to catch a ball. 

Putting the bag down Keith let himself plop down on the old couch and stay silent as he thought over the letter in his pocket. The other boy soon joined him handing him a plate with a slice of pizza on it. “Thanks...” he said quietly, taking the plate and shooting the other a small smile. “You know, they probably won’t even choose us, we are in England, what are they going to do? Send a boat or plane to get us? Come on, enjoy the pizza, I got another record today, Best of Muddy Waters, straight from America.” Mick said in attempts to calm the other boy down, putting his own plate down on the floor he stood up and walked to his bag pack. If he was being honest Mick was terrified, not only for himself but for Keith, they were both so young and had plans for the future. It honestly terrified him to think that he could be sent out to die at this age all because he was accidentally born in a country which he didn’t even consider home. The boys were in a band a they were going to be bigger than The Beatles he could feel it. They had already begun to get people interested in blues after they had covered certain songs and well made it more exciting for the younger kids. It was rock n roll and it was amazing. The Rolling Stones were going to make it big someday, the only reason they weren’t getting a record deal at the moment was because of the war and Keith and Mick being American. They had even met The Beatles early on, they had put out their first single because of them but afterwards their record company found out about them and the war and told them to come back if they didn’t get drafted. 

He pulled out the record and smiled, getting records imported from America was a huge deal in England, especially blues records, blues weren’t all too popular in England so to have blues records was like having a collectors items for blues cats like him and Keef. The needle gently hit the record and the soft crackle began, the anticipation to hear that deep voice or a guitar lick just killing the boys. Finally it began, low oh yeahs filling and breaking the tension in the room immediately, a genuine smile finally formed on both boy’s lips.

They ate and talked, they sat and listened, admiring the sound of their hero. The atmosphere had finally shifted, as long as that music played, but suddenly the record was done again. They had played it twice, both sides, but finally it was time for the reveal and both of them knew it when Mick stood up and took the record off. Butterflies filled Keith’s stomach as he got the plates and threw them into their small self made sink filled with countless other dishes that needed washing. What if only one of them got picked? He asked himself quietly as he heard the other put the record in its rightful place. 

“We’ll do it like a band aid, fast and with no hesitation. We can open it and then count to three and actually start reading” Mick explained, they had gathered themselves on the floor, cross legged, facing each other with envelopes in hand. The blue eyed boy always seemed so confident in himself, always seemed to keep his cool but Keith knew him too well and although he seemed confident there were details, small details only he could tell, that showed he was just as nervous and terrified as he was. It was small things such as the glimmer in his eyes fading, his fingers fidgeting ever so slightly but he always played it off as just feeling the envelope or looking over it, and the occasional forced smile to try and make himself happy. Nodding his head Keith waited for the other to signal to beginning to open the envelope, as soon as the other gave the sign they were off, ripping the damn thing open in such a desperate manner. Looking up he waited again, “one, two, three, read” and so they began. The moment of truth, those butterflies that had formed were dead, he no longer knew what he felt other than fear as he saw his name at the top of the letter. There was no mistake, it was addressed to him, and he didn’t want to know whether he was going to go or not. 

His eyes glanced over the words over and over again, his brain just couldn’t seem to focus, his mind was a blur and he just couldn’t read or process any of the words said. It was a bunch of terms and stuff he didn’t care about, he just wanted a straight answer, with his nerves already on edge he was beginning to grow frustrated as he once again caught himself not paying attention. “I’m not drafted!” He then heard, no longer was his mind a whirl, looking up from the letter he smiled at the sight of his friend smiling. His hands were shaking, a combination of him being happy and having had been nervous for so long, and that smile was so bright it had made him forget about his own letter until, “what about you?”. The letter was snatched from him, which Keith had to admit he was thankful for, he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he tried to read it himself not with his current state of mind. He refused to look at the boy while he read, he didn’t want to see his expression change and give anything away, so instead he looked down and tried to think. If Mick didn’t get in surely he wouldn’t either, it only meant that the other was right when mentioning how it would be silly to draft someone so far away. 

Somehow he had begun to feel a bit more confident but then he noticed the silence and those nerves just began to creep back in, “so, what is it?” Looking up he saw the eyes of the other scan over the letter again, as if in disbelief or in doubt that he read it correctly, not a good sight. 

“I’m sorry...” 

A pit formed in Keith’s stomach as those words escaped the other’s mouth. His heart began to speed up, the world around seeming to spin and somehow also begin to close in on him. It was evident by the fear in his eyes of what was happening, quickly Mick dropped the letter and rushed to the other’s side whilst talking to him in a calm matter. “Keef, mate, calm down stay with me. Do you want some water?” He could feel the other’s hand caressing his hair, while the other held his hand, as he spoke with such concern in his voice. Keith didn’t speak simply shook his head, no, and stayed frozen. His legs seemed to give out instantly and it was Mick which lightened the fall as he kept holding on to him. 

What was he going to tell his mum? What about his father? What if he didn’t go? It took a while but Keith was finally back, his head hung low, Mick never leaving his side. When he felt the sudden shift, the sudden release of tension in the muscles, he looked over. A hand had been rubbing the other’s back and it kept going as he spoke once again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”   
“How far was I from not getting picked?”   
“Sorry?”  
Standing up Keith’s mood changed, anger and frustration finally kicking in, his tone reflecting just that.   
“How far was I from not getting picked, Michael!” 

Rage filled his voice and that scared the other boy who quickly began to back away from him. 

“Talk to me!” 

“67 numbers off...” Mick soon replied, his head lowered as he took both letters out of his pocket, opening his own to check if perhaps he had misread the number and he was also drafted. 308, without a doubt he wasn’t chosen, that was 113 numbers off from the highest number called to action. There was a tension in the room as Keith began to circle the couch still trying to process what was happening, how the hell was he going to be drafted?! He knew he could escape this drafting, he could just stay here but then he’d be seen as a fugitive in America which wasn’t the best thing to be if he intended to tour with the band. But if he went there might not even be a chance of returning to a at all, there was a chance of never seeing the world, not having an album out, his life could be cut short. And for what? He wasn’t American, not in his soul at least, he was British it wasn’t his fault he was born over seas accidentally. This wasn’t his battle to fight. 

No more words were exchanged between the two, in silence Keith reached for his bag and headed to the door. Mick had no idea whether to follow the other to make sure he didn’t do anything rash or if to let him walk alone to give him the space to think. He couldn’t imagine what was going on in his head, the fear of dying, the regret of not having done certain things such as applying for citizenship here in England and renouncing that god awful citizenship given to him at birth from a country he didn’t even call home. A country which never helped him before in his life but suddenly now were calling for him to help them fight a war that he didn’t even have a clue what was about. 

Outside the black haired boy ran through the worn down path until he finally stopped reaching the end of the ditch, anger and frustration grew within him and with a yell he punched the dirt wall. “Fuck!” He yelled, out of the pain of his hand and the thoughts swarming his head. Why him? It was unfair, why wasn’t Mick called? His breathing had once again begun to shorten and knees to buckle at the thought of what was waiting for him in the future. And then it hit him, his mum...he was going to have to tell her days before his birthday, she had been so excited for him these past few days and now he was going to have to give her these horrible news. Her poor little heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

All the way home his mind raced, trying to think of what he’d say, he had taken the long way home and by the time he had finally made it to his front door it had gotten pretty dark. Usually he would admire such a dark night because it was in these nights when the stars were the most bright, contrasting the darkly sky like diamonds in a coal mine. His body once more stood frozen, his hand shaking as he forced himself to knock on the door, “come on Keith, man up” he whispered to himself. Taking a deep breath he waited for a familiar face to greet him and as such the door opened. “Your mother has been worried sick, boy, do you want to give her a heart attack?!” His father sternly said stepping to the side to allow the boy in. “Where have you been, you don’t call, you don’t say where you’re going, and you decide to come home this la—?” “I was with Mick” Keith interrupted with an annoyed growl as he looked at the older man with the coldest of eyes. He and his father were fine, they never really fought, but he was always the one that disciplined him and discipline was something Keith wasn’t too fond of.

It probably would’ve escalated to a yelling match had it not been for a tired voice grabbing both men’s attention. “Keith? Darling, its so late, where were you?” Keith heard his mother ask from behind, any sort of frustration that had built up and begun to show on his face was gone. And instead a wave of sadness washed over him as he recalled what had to be done. With a deep breath he turned to face the woman and as he opened his mouth to speak no words came out. Blushing slightly he cleared his throat, the nerves were coming back, his palms sweating and his mind a whirl. “Sorry, mum, I lost track of time with Mick, I was just listening to some records at the hang out.” Shaking her head the woman approached her son and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. The fact that he was her only child always made her go a bit easier on him, she didn’t want him gone, she wanted to see her child at least graduate high school in one piece. “I don’t want you staying out this late without me knowing why, I don’t want you getting into trouble. Have you had dinner? If you’re hungry there’s—“ “I’m not hungry...” “Go to bed, Keith”

“Goodnight mum, goodnight dad...” He could always tell them tomorrow, they deserved a good nights rest and after the little stunt he pulled it was best to not keep them up any longer. Up the stairs he went and into his room. His room wasn’t too grand. It had the essentials, a bed, a desk, a closet, a turn table, and a dresser. His records stood neatly organized in a box next to the turn table which stood next to his desk by the window. The walls were mostly plain and white except for the two posters he had, one of Chuck Berry and the other of Roy Rogers, his heroes. On his bed laid his acoustic guitar, the one that he had been gifted by his mother when he was young, the one that he had begged for every day for many years. Seeing it there gave his heart a break as thoughts of how broken she’d be when he’d tell her the news. With a swift movement he grabbed the guitar and sat down, his fingers instinctively went to the strings, feeling the metal under his roughened fingertips bringing him so sort of relief. 

A sweet blues rhythm he began to play, sorrowful and painful as each note seemed to weep at the image of war and heartbreak. Leaning back, his back against the wall, Keith continued to play. He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep but he had because the next morning he woke up with guitar still in hand and with an aching neck. “Keith breakfast is ready!” A voice from downstairs yelled, groaning the boy didn’t rolled out of bed, placing the guitar in its rightful corner of the room before heading to the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of the fanfic I had to pull a couple strings for the boys to make it to Vietnam. I’ve done quite a lot of research on the drafting lottery and how one was drafted so I know that if this was real Mick would firstly not even be receiving a letter since he was not drafted and would also probably be able to save himself, had he been considered for the draft, since he was probably in college at the time (in this story he isn’t in college yet). Keith on the other hand would’ve been called to action (well basing it off numbers and what number he’d have for the draft) I am unsure whether he’d be consider since he is in England (again assuming he would’ve been born American). They also would’ve been able to see the numbers they were assigned on the telly but still they’d have to get a letter to confirm that they were being called in for a physical which would lead to them probably getting put in the war.


End file.
